


A Beginning

by alyyks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale, Shiro (Voltron)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyyks/pseuds/alyyks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro, immediately after being thrown into the universe by the corrupted wormhole.</p><p>Shiro, alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoAsakura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/gifts).



> Born from many wild discussions with JoAsakura. Thank you for dragging me into that one.

  
  
  
Here’s what Shiro knows:

  * His name is Takashi Shirogane.
  * Over a year ago, he was the pilot on the Kerberos mission. A Galra ship took his captain and his communication officer and him as prisoners. He— doesn’t want to remember that year.
  * He doesn’t remember that year.
  * He remembers parts of that year.
  * He’s now the pilot of the Black Lion, part of the weapon named Voltron, with Keith, Lance, Hunk, Pidge—and on the ship Princess Allura, Coran.
  * Seven people against the rest of the universe and he doesn’t want to think about that that much either.
  * One thing at the time. Focus determine reality.
  * His right hand—his right arm, is Galra tech. He doesn’t remember how it turned that way.
  * He remembers Haggar and her laugh and she made him a weapon.
  * They escaped the central command of the empire and— and—



  
The lion doesn’t have alarms. It… rumbles at him, inside his head. Shiro’s relieved to feel that, relieved to feel at all. He’s crumpled on the floor of the cockpit, half-jammed under a console: the floor and ceiling are now sides, everything at an angle it wasn’t designed to be.  
  
Crash. They escaped the Central Command and the wormhole they used was corrupted. He could be anywhere in the universe.  
  
The lion, the sensation of purring at the back of his skull, leaves, seemingly satisfied its pilot is alive. Its pilot… but for how long? Zarkon had taken over so easily, had overwhelmed him and taken him out so fast. He had had no defense against that—he had no idea how to form a defense against that—  
  
Breathe. Focus.  
  
“This is Shiro. Anyone copy?”  
  
The comm has nothing, not even static, to offer in answer.  
  
If he wants to assess his situation, he needs to move, if only to look through the viewport. Left arm. Right arm—he hisses sharply, the wound Haggar left him gaping in his side.  
  
Gaping and glowing purple and _not bleeding_.  
  
He doesn’t remember most of the year past and he doesn’t want to, when he is honest with himself. Being directly confronted with reminders that it happened, it happened, it happened—like his face and his hair and his arm—  
  
He takes a breath and focuses on keeping on breathing, on moving up slowly so as not to make the injury worse, on racking his brain for where a medical kit or anything he can use to cover the hole in his suit could be.  
  
It hurts. It’s a distant, aching thing lodged in his side. He’s had worse in pilot training, and in the arena, and if he keeps thinking that it’ll become real. He’s had a lot of practice at that.  
  
It doesn’t hurt like sliced skin and muscle should hurt.  
  
When he drag himself up to look out, there’s nothing but a star-studded black sky above a dust-grey field of craters outside.  
  
Keith had been in the same hangar as him, had been pulled out right after him—  
  
“Can anyone hear me?” He tries again. The black lion, despite being all around him, and inside, in the back of his mind, doesn’t answer.  
  
Nothing answers.


End file.
